Hapsburg Valentine
by RayLi1992
Summary: Austria wakes up on Valentine's Day, as usual not remembering what day it is. However, Hungary remembers.


It seemed like a typical day to Austria at the time. He turned over on his bed, trying to avoid the glare of the early morning sun and possibly do some work today, maybe check on the edelweiss in his front garden or prevent another scuffle between some countries. He groaned. Irresponsible little things. Irresponsible little countries.

Unable to get the sun out of his eyes, he sat up, drew the curtains shut, and placed his head in his hands, letting his fingers run through his unkempt jet-black hair. He pulled down his white blanket, turning to his right, and let out a short groan.

"Elizaveta?" he moaned, his sleepiness obvious through his voice. Nobody answered; she must have been downstairs.

"Elizaveta? Where are you?" he called, louder this time. Still no answer.

Putting on his slippers, he took a few steps toward the massive regal door at the entrance to his room. He rubbed his eyes then opened it, descending down the staircase of his royal European mansion. Tiredly walking over to his perfectly-cleaned piano, he placed his right hand on the keys.

Nope. Too tired.

He went to the kitchen, a luxurious expanse finely decorated with intricately-carved furniture gifted by Germany, a huge chandelier that illuminated the room with its golden rays at night, and a row of windows on the opposite wall, the early morning sunlight gleaming through the meticulously-cleaned glass and stroking the lustrous ceramic floor below. There were only three things on his finely-polished table- one, a finished ceramic bowl of what was probably Hungary's expertly-cooked goulash. Two, a plate with a generous helping of his wife's apfelstrudel, untouched, with a knife and fork neatly adorning its sides. And three, a handwritten note. Austria picked it up nonchalantly and read it.

"Do not eat. Sincerely, Elizaveta."

It must have been one of Hungary's childish pranks again, Austria thought. He grimaced. The last time he found a note like this on his food, he decided to wait until Hungary came back so he could eat. And that was ten hours later, late in the afternoon. Needless to say, he didn't really want that happening again.

Picking up his fork and knife, he pulled out a chair and sat down. He took a napkin, placing it on his lap, and started eating the apfelstrudel. When he was done, he sat up, smiling. Hungary's meals were always beautifully cooked- detail was, according to her, the most important aspect of cooking. That was one of the reasons he liked having her around. Despite her quick temperament, and her tendency to hit whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, she didn't do much harm. He wiped his mouth, put his napkin down, and put his chair back under the table. He turned around, and as he did, his eyes widened slightly as the figure of Hungary greeted him.

"Oh. Good morning." Austria said, less calm than normal.  
"Did you like my apfelstrudel?" Hungary asked.  
"Oh yes. Very nice." Austria replied. He smiled, albeit a bit nervously, his eyes clearly drawn to the unappealing frying pan that Hungary was carrying.  
"Did you read my note?" Hungary asked.  
"Oh yes, I did. I have to say, the handwriting was exquisite. Very beautiful, delicate and graceful. Just like you, my dear Elizaveta."

He placed his hand around Hungary's gently, attempting to bring it to his lips, but was met by the cold, hard steel of Hungary's favourite cooking appliance. Groaning, he rubbed his cheek, which was turning red fast.

"God...dammit…Elizaveta…!" Austria groaned.  
"I thought you could read, Roderich," Hungary snapped. "I wanted… I wanted to have breakfast with you."  
"And why would that be? I mean, you're perfectly capable of eating by yourself."

Hungary stared him down with a look that would've made Roman Empire whimper. Ever so slightly slinking away, Hungary reluctantly decided to tell him.

"It's Valentine's Day today, Roderich. I'm assuming that you're going to do a better job this year than you did last." Hungary said, a stern look on her face  
"Hmm?" Austria asked.  
"Last year, you didn't wake up until about 11:00 in the morning. Then I had to tell you that it was Valentine's Day, and you didn't seem to give a damn! I had to freaking COOK for you, something that—" a slight shift to calmness in Hungary's expression—"you are perfectly capable of doing so. Then…"

Hungary hung her head, her voice lowered.

"All you did was say thank you. You didn't even look at me, into my eyes, and say, "Thank you." Nothing. You just went back up to our room, then slept like a rock. I...you… sometimes I don't even think you…"

Hungary turned away from Austria. Gently, delicately, he slipped a hand under his wife's arms, then another, sliding them gently across her waist, his long, slender fingers clasping each other and holding her tightly. The Magyar woman placed her right hand on his arm, her other hand lightly stroking Austria's cheek. Austria leaned over, Hungary still in his grasp, and moved his head, slowly, steadily.

"R-Roderich…" Hungary said, closing her eyes as she said the name.  
"Eliza…" Austria said as he moved ever closer to Hungary, allowing her to play with his jet black hair. Hand on the back of his head, heart beating wildly, Hungary lightly brought Austria's head towards hers, kissing him, feeling a faint rush of blood to her cheeks.

"I know you'll do better this year," said Hungary, grinning childishly. "I just know it."

The frying pan, ready to be used at any time Hungary wanted, really did not look very appealing. Austria faced Hungary and nervously said, "Of course I will."

Smiling, the brown-haired woman took a wicker basket and made her way towards the front door.

"I'm off to the farm. Wheat isn't going to grow itself, you know. See you tonight, Roderich." Hungary said.  
"Yes…farewell, my dear." Austria replied. Hungary shut the door behind her, leaving Austria alone in his massive palace.

"Oh. Freaking. Crap." Austria said to himself. He ran to his phone, turned the dial and jammed the headset to his ear. A few seconds later, he heard the familiar, annoyingly accented voice of France on the other end.

"Bonjour, mon ami…Who is zis?" France asked, clearly quite upbeat.  
"Ja…it's Roderich. Listen—"  
"Hmm? What is it? Perhaps you would like to purchase some of my refined, aromatic parfum, oui?"  
"No, honestly, it's nothing like—"  
"Or perhaps a couple of baguette, no?"  
"No, Francis, I do not enjoy eating your baguette." Austria said, badly imitating France's accent.  
"Zen must I cook for you, my Allemand friend?"  
"No, you see, with you being a romantic country and all, I need some, well, advice. You see, today is Valentine's Day…"  
"Oui?"  
"And, well, you see…"  
"You want ME to be your Valentine, Roderich?" France asked, making Austria want to throw the phone at the nearest wall.  
"No, no. I already have one. Elizaveta. You see, I've forgotten that today is Valentine's Day, and, well…"

On the other end of the line, France's blood began boiling. From the tone of his voice, that was pretty obvious to Austria.

"Non, non non! What a disaster!" France screamed, getting more and more worked up with each word.  
"You know I'm forgetful," Austria replied, holding the earpiece at arm's length from his ear.  
"But, her birthday? Forgivable! Christmas? Forgivable! But Valentine's Day? UN-forgivable, Roderich!"

After a garbled mix of hurriedly spoken French and a flurry of insults, France slammed down the phone, the noise forcing Austria to drop his set as well, completely pissed off at the flamboyant Western European. For a so-called "romantic country", he could be pretty damn useless at times. He turned back to the stove. Cooking. He'd need some food in order to think. He rubbed his head, trying to ease the migraine that came from trying to think of something to do on Valentine's for Hungary. After dumping Hungary's dirty cooking utensils in his sink, Austria turned on the gas, sending a healthy burst of fire upwards. Then he noticed. He'd left his napkin on the counter.

Grabbing the nozzle of the sink and pulling, Austria aimed the stream of water at the napkin. The napkin was extinguished, but the stove was not. In fact, it was the opposite.

The realization of what a stupid mistake pouring water on the stove was came directly after the stove's reaction. A tower of flame shot up, sending sparks flying, one hitting Austria on his lapel. Trying to douse his burning clothes, he broke out into a peculiar mix of doing the 'stop, drop and roll', trying to cover up the stove like he was supposed to in situations like these, and maniacally spraying water everywhere.

When the entire thing was done, there were three things the inferno left in its wake.

One. A horribly damaged stove.

Two. A mass of metallic cooking utensils, ugly streaks of black going everywhere on it.

Three. A pitiful-looking Austria with disgustingly charred clothes, burnt black hair and a frowning, burnt black face.

Straightening his glasses and cleaning his face, he walked over to his phone and reluctantly dialed France again.

"Sacre bleu! I told you not to call again!" came the voice from the other end of the line.  
"Yes…well, I've got another, slightly bigger problem—"  
"What can be bigger than missing ze most important day of the year?!"  
"Missing the most important day of the year and not being able to cook anything."  
"What do you mean by zat?"

Austria told France all about the affair with the stove and the nozzle. After the entire tale was finished, France seemed to have been placated.

"Hmm…well, nobody deserves to be burnt to a crisp in a fire…even someone as horribly careless as you, Roderich."  
"So, I need someone to cook for me. I'm organizing something. Just for Elizaveta." Austria asked.  
"I am still extremely disappointed in you, Monsieur Edelstein."  
"Just for once. Please."  
"Non."  
"I will give you a barrel of your famed wine. Straight from Bordeaux, Francis! Just do it!"

That was different. France thought for a bit before responding.

"Oui…Fine. I will make finest dish for you, and your wife will be happy and perky as le papillon once I am finished!"  
"Le what?"  
"Never mind."

France hung up, and Austria, relieved to have been able to tick one task off his list. Pouring himself a glass of Germany's best beer, he was annoyed to receive another phone call.

"It is me. Francis." the voice on the other end of the line said.  
"Yes, Herr Bonnefoy?" Austria said, taking a huge gulp of the malted yellow liquid.  
"One problem. I…uh…appear to have a lack of…how do you say in foreign language… ingredient."  
"So, are you saying you can't cook for me? On possibly the time I need you to cook the most?!"  
"Ohh…oui…"  
"I NEED YOU TO COOK, FRANCIS! Otherwise," Austria said, followed by a shudder, "it's the pan for me again."

A pause was heard as France contemplated what he just heard.

"I…have heard of le demonique frying pan of your equally as demonique wife from Prussia." France said, obviously quite daunted by the prospect of Hungary's weapon of choice. "Fine. Here. I know people who can help you."

Austria took down an address given to him by France. When he was done, France put the phone down, leaving a worn-out Austria slumped in his chair. After finishing the glass of beer, he changed, put on his coat and got in his Volkswagen, uttering a silent "thank you" to Germany for the billionth time ever since he got it on his birthday. He slammed on the accelerator, finally arriving at his destination a few minutes later, slumping back in his chair for about ten more minutes to get his heartbeat back to normal. He stood up, as straight as he could, and rang the doorbell.

"Hello?" came a female voice.  
"Umm…" Austria responded, not having enough time to collect his thoughts before a young, blonde woman ran out, carrying a pitchfork and a basket of bread.

"Helloooo…Austria? What are you doing here?"  
"Yekaterina?"

The confused gentleman tried to collect his thoughts, but after drawing a blank, he decided to go.

"Umm, that's okay, I'll leave." Austria said, turning towards his car. "Must be a mistake."  
"No, no, please stay. I rarely get any visitors."  
"No, that's really—" Austria felt the perky little Ukraine pushing him into his house, and soon he found himself sat down at a little couch, an impressive stack of bread sitting right in front of him, atop a furnished wooden table.

"Come, come, now." Ukraine said, pointing toward the bread. "Eat. Go on."  
"No, it's really not a problem, please…"  
"Eat."

Despite the fact that Ukraine had always seemed like a nice, maternal woman to him, and that she was still smiling, there was something about her glare, her face, something that seemed forceful, something that hinted that she might get very angry if he didn't take a bite very soon.

Or maybe it was just the massive, three-pronged pitchfork. Either way, he quickly picked up a loaf of bread and took a modest bite out of it.

"That's better!" Ukraine said, squeezing his cheeks, making Austria grimace. "Look, so thin and so unhealthy! So thin! You need more food! Finish that bread, and Yekaterina here will give you some more."  
"This…this is well done, Yekaterina. Reminds me of the stuff I had in Germany's house."  
"No." Ukraine said, her beaming smile gone. "My bread is better. Germany cannot make bread like Yekaterina here."

Austria, having heard enough, finished the piece of bread, then another. When he had eaten about half the basket, he wiped his mouth with a nearby napkin and stood up to leave.

"Yekaterina, thank you very much, but I have to go now…" he said.  
"No, no no! You need more! Much more!  
"No, really, it's fine…"

Ukraine was gone when Austria finished speaking. Austria considered kicking open Ukraine's door and driving like hell away, but he resisted. Etiquette always came first. Instead, he rubbed his stomach, nervous about how much was going to be force-fed to him.

When Ukraine came back, she held a massive cauldron and a bowl that would've been good enough to hold enough soup for the two of them. She placed the bowl down, and used a gigantic ladle to plop a crimson-red viscous liquid into the bowl, complete with vegetables. She gave Austria a spoon and replaced his napkin.

"Here, have some borsch." Ukraine said, in her thick East European accent. Austria took a long sip, and a faint hint of a smile creeped onto his face, then was gone.

"It's very delicious, Yekaterina." Austria said, trying to keep a calm demeanor but unable to prevent a smile from flashing across his face.  
"Have some more then."

Austria, albeit with a cautious air about him, kept sipping spoonfuls of the soup into his mouth. Ukraine watched, satisfied that he enjoyed her cooking.

"Roderich, you must eat. You do not know what it is like to go hungry, living in your massive house with a great cook for a wife. A few years back, Ivan took all my borsch, all my cooking things and locked me in a cellar. And to think! I'd taken care of him ever since we were young! This was during the early days of the Soviet Club, mind you. Think! It seemed like an eternity, no borsch at all! Just little meat cutlets fed to me by Ivan. Mind you, he's a terrible chef, and every meal had the awful stench of vodka. No borsch at all. What a horrible fate!" Ukraine said, further emphasizing her obsession with borsch.  
"I can't imagine." Austria said politely.  
"You cannot. Of course you cannot. Because Elizaveta cooks for you. Very nice chef, that one."  
"Which reminds me. I came here not to eat, but to buy ingredients from someone. After all, it is Valentine's today. France told me to buy ingredients from 'the breadbasket of Europe'. Apparently, they're where he gets his…materials. Do you know where this person is?"  
"Why didn't you say so earlier? You're at her house!" Ukraine exclaimed. Because this breadbasket's bread was being forced into my mouth piece by piece, Austria thought, biting his tongue to prevent him from saying anything.  
"Anyway," Austria said. "Here is a list of everything I need." Austria handed Ukraine his notes. Ukraine frowned.

"Very messy handwriting." Ukraine scolded. "Your hands need to be stronger! You need more borsch."  
"NO! Please, no, no, no…!" Austria said, seriously thinking about picking up the soup bowl and throwing it at her.  
"Fine, fine. I'll get what you need. You can pay me later."  
"Thank you." Austria said, as the lively Ukraine went to her storage room at the back of her house to get a massive assortment of food.

A few minutes later, Ukraine came out holding a massive crate full of foodstuffs. After helping Austria cram the crate into the back of his car, she disappeared into his house and he drove off, none of them noticing the figure of the furious Hungary, her hair blowing in the wind, camera in one hand, ready to kill whichever one came within striking distance of her almighty pan.

Hungary burst into a small wooden shack located near her farming grounds, fists clenched and tears cascading down her face. She placed her head against the door. In between sobs, she pounded repeatedly on the wooden surface a few times before stopping, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Like the countless blades of grass outside, she sank, slowly, finding rest at a wall, her face pointed downwards. She wiped her eyes once again and began running her fingers through her cascading auburn hair. Just like Austria would normally do. Then he'd push her against the wall, ever so slightly, leaning closer to her and stroking her face, perhaps teasing her when he wasn't in a rush to get away from Prussia. He'd gift her with something, perhaps a small edelweiss picked up from the gardens near his house. Taking it out of the pocket of his shirt, he'd lightly reach over and kiss her forehead, then place the little white flower in her hair, smiling to himself as she just stayed there, eyes closed, safe in the arms of _her _Roderich. Then he'd move over, and she'd always try to break free of his grasp, but in one of those rare moments where she couldn't snap him like a twig, he'd hold onto her tightly, his arms grasping her back, then he'd pull her over for a passionate kiss, forcing her to use the table inside as support, blushing fiercely just like she did when they met in Vienna all those years ago.

She had calmed down by now and had finished putting her thoughts together, having thought of a solution that would help resolve everything in a calm, rational manner that would leave everyone feeling happy and enjoying their Valentine's. She walked towards the phone, tapped a sequence of numbers and waited.

"Hello?" Hungary asked. "Beilschmidt residence?"  
"Yeah," came a voice on the other end of the line.  
"Get Gilbert on the phone. Please."

Austria pulled his car into the garage, wanting to sleep. He never really liked hot days- his clothes meant that being exposed to the sun for too long would mean that he would be a pitiable pile of sweat within ten minutes. He went inside his house, calling out to the Frenchman who was already there, a strange and fascinating assortment of scents wafting out from the kitchen.

"Herr Bonnefoy?" Austria called.  
"Oui?" came the reply.  
"I suppose you are hard at work, waiting for your promised barrel. You will get it."

Austria walked to his dressing table, took out a bottle of cologne and sprayed himself with it. Taking out a comb, he parted his hair, then cleaned his glasses, placing a little white edelweiss in his hand, as nervous as he was every year. A few minutes later, he saw the familiar figure of Hungary's horse galloping towards his house. He turned back towards the kitchen and called out to France, "Get ready!"

France emerged, placing the cutlery and utensils on the table in one deft move before returning to his business in the kitchen. Austria heard the familiar sound of key turning in lock, and he stood straight up, greeting the figure of his beautiful Elizaveta. Then, much to his surprise, came in Prussia.

"Good evening, Elizaveta." Austria said.

Rather than responding, Hungary turned towards Prussia, grabbed his shirt, pulled him over and placed her arms around his head, kissing him fiercely. Austria stood, mouth wide open. France nonchalantly came out, and upon seeing the female nation desperately grasping onto the obviously confused, but far from dissatisfied Prussia, silently retreated back to the kitchen where he came from.

"W…WHAT THE HELL?!" Austria screamed. After a few seconds, Hungary broke from Prussia's grasp and answered him.  
"You…Ukraine…Damn you, Roderich!" she screamed, Prussia obviously delighting in the sight of Austria being screwed over by his angry wife.  
"What about Yekaterina?! What the hell were you doing with her?!" Hungary screamed, proceeding to hug Prussia, making Austria want to throw up.  
"Her?! What do you mean?"  
"You…you asshole! You and Yekaterina! I saw you at her house, you liar. Here!" Hungary screamed, taking out her camera and grabbing Austria's hair, pulling him towards the screen with one hand and rubbing the thing into his face with the other.

"Take a long hard look at this!" Hungary said, clearly beyond control.  
"How can I take a look when you're constantly moving the damn thing around?!"  
"Very funny, Herr Edelstein. It appears that you have failed- both as a nation, and now as a husband. Now if you excuse me, I have some…other things to attend to." Prussia said, the sickening smooth tone to his voice making Austria want to shove Gilbird down his throat. Hungary released him.

"I knew it. Ever since that…day, at the end of the Great War, you've never been the same. You never cared about me. You always forget my birthday, you've stopped giving me presents. And now you're with Ivan's sister. And you do it on the WORST DAY IN THE ENTIRE FREAKING YEAR TO DO IT! Why?" Hungary shouted.  
"But I-"  
"Shut up! Do not answer me when I ask you a question!" Hungary shot back. Austria thought of placing a palm to his face, but let it slide.  
"I don't know why I'm here… why are you like this, Roderich?! Please…" A tear escaped from Hungary's eyes and dropped onto Austria's velvet red carpet.  
"You…don't love me…. anymore, do you Roderich? You've grown cold, so cold. Well, fine! Go ahead…Roderich…I can't…I mean… I will not… Roderich!" Hungary sobbed, covering her face with her hands. The gentleman walked towards her, slightly unnerved as Prussia reached out to comfort her. Ignoring Prussia, she took two steps towards Austria, finally collapsing into his outstretched arms. Austria took her, embraced her, laying a few kisses on the top of her head while giving the finger to Prussia behind Hungary's back.

"Roderich…please…don't leave me…" was all Hungary managed to say before closing her eyes and allowing herself to cry into Austria's welcoming arms. Prussia, obviously extremely angry, said, in a low, insidious voice, "Austria…it isn't over yet…" Then turning towards the front door, he opened it and stormed out. At least he intended to before meeting the brunt of France's rolling pin. The cracking noise of the impact jolted the two of them back to reality, and they stared.

"Where did you come from?" Austria asked, dumbfounded.  
"Ze back door is there for a reason, is it not?"  
"He's not waking up, is he?" Hungary asked.  
"Oh, non non non. Monsieur Beilschmidt will certainly be waking up, maybe a couple hours or days later. In ze meantime, though, I suggest that we ensure zat when he wakes up he does so in shame. Agreement, Monsieur Edelstein?"  
"Ja. That will certainly do good for my wellbeing."  
"And you, Mademoiselle Hedervary?"  
"I wholeheartedly agree."  
"Merci. Now, I must be going."

Austria turned back to Hungary and kissed her lightly on the cheeks, smiling when a shade of red coloured them. She stood still, trying to collect herself.

"Elizaveta. The reason I was at Yekaterina's house was to take some food. France agreed to cook tonight, as I broke the stove. He's fixed it now."  
"I-I'm sorry, Roderich."  
"I want you to know this, Elizaveta. Come hell or high water, I swear, I will never abandon you. Even if I have to die for you, even if I have to endure the most unimaginable pain in the world…hell, even if Ivan decides to pay me a visit, I promise you, I will be standing by your side until the end."  
"Thank you, Roderich." Hungary said, gazing at Austria's large navy blue eyes, blushing fiercely as he cupped her face between his hands. Then he produced the edelweiss. Hungary gently cupped her hands, allowing her Austria to put the flower in them. Her fingers closed around his gift, and she smiled for perhaps the first time in hours.

"Thank you, Roderich." Hungary said.

Hungary and Austria finished their massive five course dinner. France's candle, a staple whenever he was called upon to cater to his fellow nations was nearly burnt through. The two lovers, satisfied with their meal, leaned over slightly towards each other, alone except for the preoccupied chef in the kitchen. Austria called over to France.

"Oui, Monsieur Edelstein?" the perky Frenchman said  
"Please clear up our table, if you don't mind."

The obedient France did so, and left the two alone once more. Austria took Hungary by the hand. Soon, they were standing at the foot of the massive wooden staircase.

"Elizaveta…" Austria said. But no words were necessary. All they wanted was each other. That was all they knew. Hungary, seemingly unable to speak, gently pressed Austria's body against the wall, leaning over and smiling at him. Austria smiled back. He gently took her, stroking her soft brown hair, trying to hide the streaks of red that were rushing to his cheeks using the darkness of his house. He bent over, ever so slightly, and whispered in Hungary's ear, "Ich liebe dich."

Hungary's eyes widened, then she reached over to Austria.

"S-Szeretlek." Hungary whispered.

Hungary slowly grabbed Austria's collar, bringing her hands around his neck as Austria brought his around her back. The couple pulled each other closer together and kissed, closing their eyes, giving to each other every bit of passion stored in themselves as the final flames from France's candle slowly died out.


End file.
